


Isle of the Dead

by lalunaticscribe



Series: Long Live the King [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Ghostly Politics, Multi, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/pseuds/lalunaticscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So let's pin the hopes of the human world on one Danny Phantom's efforts at government. Yay!”</p><p>So saying, Danny flew off.</p><p>Operative O looked at Operative K. “Someone get a direct line to POTUS. We're doomed.”<br/>___<br/>AKA the compiling of a new constitution for the Ghost Zone, ruled by His Majesty Pariah Dark. Which is actually more exciting than it actually sounds when it involves Amity Park's phantom hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Lanternes des morts

_**If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me without my stir.  
– Macbeth Act 1, scene 3** _

* * *

Sometimes the sheer amount of things that anyone could live through was surprising.

Things had been calm, relatively speaking, in the United States' most haunted city and the only city which boasted of its own vigilante. There _had_ been that mass exodus of ghosts from the FentonWorks portal months ago, but it was still a relatively quiet day for the defenders of Amity Park, as it had been a relatively quiet six months for said defenders of Amity Park.

Hence, the positive feeling of the Guys in White's Amity Park field office. Not that most people could tell from the men and women in white suits standing around sturdy cubicles, desktops, and generically whitewashed office spaces if the shiny glowing weapons disappeared.

The most senior agent was a bald man, his dark skin contrasting with the plain white business suit standing next to a giant printer. Beside him, another man, a Caucasian, walked away after taking coffee in a plain white mug. Around them, more people in identical white suits are either overlooking computers, muttering information to one another, or were taking a quick lunch break – in plain white lunch-boxes, no surprise, though one enterprising guy had once brought a _Phantom_ lunch box.

“Operative O, code P.”

“Received, Operative K. Bring him into a contained facility.”

Most of the Guys in White sat to attention. Since most of the staff were natives of Amity Park or Elmerton, aside from the commanding agents, they were very familiar with code P.

P, as in Phantom, that is.

“Er, I'm just gonna stay outside, yeah, but I thought you might not want to make an ASS out of U and ME.”

“Mr Fenton, please remain under three feet of airspace.”

“Not that the rule stops ghosts from hovering around.”

Operative O got a particular twitch. It seemed to happen all the time that Danny Phantom had looked close to sixteen despite having been around for about ten years following the Disasteroid incident. The guns weren't flying though, which indicated that they were restraining themselves for the moment. “You never ask for help.”

“Erm, well...” Phantom looked discomfited. “I... kinda need a bit of help. Remember the Pariah Dark incident?”

As if anyone could remember the sudden disappearance and reappearance of Amity Park from the surface of the Earth over a course of two hours. “Seriously?”

“Serious. Well, he awoke months ago-” and this was new, important information, why couldn't Phantom just take a government contract?! “-and he's reorganising... It's been a bit... anarchic there.”

“'Anarchy in the Ghost Zone'!” Operative K remarked. “Other news: 'Water is wet'!”

“Well, it's not going to be anarchic any longer,” Danny sighed, looking both tired and happy for a young adult trainee teacher at Casper High, “because Pariah Dark finally agreed to ratify a constitution! Which is why I dropped by to tell you guys, that I'm going off-world for a bit. Have to make sure that things like slavery actually stay off the books.”

“Wait, ghosts got organised?” Operative K echoed. “And they're finally putting up a system of government that they're actually going to follow?!”

“And now all the ghosts are just going by a new democracy?” Operative O added his piece after a long silence.

“Ah, yeah... no,” Danny finally said. “Which is why I'm going off-world. To make sure the constitution is actually going to keep humans out of the Ghost Zone. The Ghost Writer's transcribing all of it, and if he says that Earth is part of the Ghost Zone... yep,” Danny nodded at the collective grimaces, “not gonna be great. So let's pin the hopes of the human world on one Danny Phantom's efforts at government. Yay!”

So saying, Danny flew off.

Operative O looked at Operative K. “Someone get a direct line to POTUS. We're doomed.”

* * *

Despite being a ghost, and a grown young adult, Danny still struggled under the compilation of the Ghost Zone's law code. It was a giant codex, which was much better than the scroll version written in Hieratic, and it was as tall as Danny himself. It was also going to be useless for anything other than recycled paper, once Pariah Dark and Walker finished deciding what constituted cruel and unusual punishment, and a new constitution was ratified.

“Nobody uses a pear of anguish anymore, jus' sayin'.”

“We are not the one advocating for a Judas cradle, Sir Walker. We were saying, a Tablilla, thumbscrews, and a pear of anguish is more likely to continue species functioning. That is actually vital to prison operations-”

“Both of you might want to consider this book as cruel and unusual punishment, instead of actual torture devices.” Danny tossed the Ghost Zone law code into the Keep's new throne room. The walls rattled as the book thumped onto the ground.

“Oi!” The Ghost Writer glared at Danny. He was seated in the throne room with his own desk, complete with floating typewriter and stationery and papers.

“Sorry, Andy.” Danny glared at the room's other two occupants. “I'm now clear for two weeks.”

Walker stood at the base of a raised dais. “Hello, punk.”

From the dark throne rose the current King of All Ghosts. He had wild green hair, currently pulled back in a plait, and snow-white skin. The horns on his helmet remained, over a large scar over a patched eye, and a displeased frown upon his face. There were traditional depictions of Satan in churches that failed to compare, especially in terms of presence, like the King of All Ghosts owned the space around him. Pariah Dark gave a basso chuckle. It echoed in his throne room, almost like a Ghostly Wail by its scare factor alone.

“Health and happiness to you too, Daniel. Now then. Shall we begin?”


	2. I: Immortelle

 

Standing in the throne room of Pariah's Keep now, a very ancient and powerful ghost smirked as his form changed from old, to child to middle-age, over and over again. He wore a violet cloak that covered his body. The scar over his left eye and red eyes made him almost resemble Pariah, though the slenderness of the Time Ghost belied his status amongst the spectres of their world.

The clock-staff he held continued ticking on its merry way, as inexorable as time itself. The ghost had been messing with his staff until the ticks and dongs of the hundreds of clocks in his citadel started to change in timing and tones, like something extremely important was happening. He knew what those sounds meant and knew it was time.

Around Clockwork, the Observants were more or less panicking under the one-eyed gaze of the Ghost King. It was the best entertainment in literally _aeons_.

“The Witenagemot speaker will now attempt to explain their actions.” Pariah's silky tone belied the rage that the Crown of Fire upon his head was exhibiting. The plait that ran down his shaggy cloak of brown fur was a corbeau stain against the puce of his vestments. “High treason, undermining the Crown's power, illegal coercion of this world's spectres... _plotting_ to undermine the Crown of Fire. We demand a response.”

His gloved hands clapped. “Wise-men. We do believe that in the human world, once a time long ago, that word was a phrase for _criminals_.”

One Observant raised his hand. “We do believe that the term is 'wise-guy'-”

“You will be _silent_.” The speakers remained silent.

“Your oath was to watch,” Pariah replied. “And to judge, with the hindsight that no ghost of the crown ever could. This did not include _acting_.”

“You were a tyrant, Your Majesty,” spoke the Observant. “Respectfully stating so, of course.”

“Is that your final response, Observant?” Pariah murmured, his lone eye glittering. A lone beam shot from it, burning a hole into the thick woven carpet and near the Observant's tail.

“Pariah, I don't think nearly blasting your treasonous advisers is going to win you brownie points.” A voice spoke up, and quite a few of the eyeball ghosts jumped at Danny's intervention. “By the way, have I mentioned how much you sound like Plasmius?”

“Daniel.” While still sounding like a vague threat, the tone was much more friendly than what the Observants were facing.

“We have an agreement,” continued His Majesty. “You will not undermine my authority borne of fear before these treasonous eyeballs, and We will not try to... what is the word, ah yes, 'troll' you when you discuss human culture.”

“You still don't need to shoot him, Dark.”

“First name or family name, pick one. Now then,” Pariah Dark hummed, turning his attention back to the terrified Observants. “Shall We slaughter all of you, right here and now? Or shall We release you from your obligations like my former servant the Fright Knight, now known as the Black Knight, and allow the Crown's fire to burn all of you from within? You did observe this outcome, did you not? Hence you did not stop the catalyst of the chain of events that caused Us to be sealed away the _second_ time.”

Danny sidled towards Clockwork. “Much as I like to see the Observants humiliated, what's going on? Former servant?”

“The Observant Council, or His Majesty's Witenagemot of Phantasms, are technically servants of the Crown. Of Fire, that is.” Clockwork replied. “They can derive power from the Crown, and the ghostly energies of the Crown can also sustain them about their duties. One great reason for the Fright Knight's power, aside from his position as the spirit of Allhallows Eve, is his service to the Crown and His Majesty's government. However, once the Ghost King decrees it, the Crown's fire will go into overdrive in the ghost's body, and the ghost will burn away into nothingness after a long and painful... or they could simply burn into oblivion. The Fright Knight ended his unlife that way.”

“Well, attacking the guy who could barbecue me into a charcoal briquette directly sounds like a losing deal either way,” Danny commented, his expression faraway. “So, the Sarcophagus business...”

Clockwork grimaced. “Pariah was a tyrant. There was no other king who could enforce rules like the Christmas truce otherwise. The reason why the Ancient ghosts were formed and succeeded in sealing Pariah away, was that the Observants could not directly attack the Ghost King without being immediately roasted from the inside out. So, in the absence of the High King, the Observants took power.”

“And the _second_ time?” Danny demanded.

“Do you really think Skulker could lead an exodus of ghosts out without the Observants' enforcers stopping him?” Clockwork chuckled. “The Observants are bound to watch. And when you can watch the past, present and future, you can usually manipulate events into the most likely outcome. Granted, that you of all ghosts was leading the offence to fend His Majesty off, 'twas unexpected.”

“Great.” Danny complained. “Now I feel like a pawn _and_ disinclined to stop Pariah Dark from barbecuing them all.”

The eye-beams grew stronger, and the flames raged until the temperature of the throne room rose to uncomfortable levels. “You may give a good reason why We should spare your miserable lives.”

“Your Majesty!” The sole Observant speaker so far piped up. “We have acted in the benefit of the Ghost Zone. We have sought to prevent the atrocities that you must commit in your reign. Because we have ruled in the collective under your name, your reign remains relatively cleaner than your predecessors. Like Empress Wuzhao, Queen Semiramis, Emir Ali... though we admit that we are not equipped for affairs of humans and ghosts, Sheriff Walker, his associates and others form establishments of authority that normally unruly spectres must look up towards. While treasonous, our actions have created in this distant future a set of peers that which you may form your realm from, compared to the downtrodden masses so oppressed before and ruled by minions, ghostly shades and enforced by deaths. I agree, we have been treasonous to the Crown and Your Majesty's government. However, we have executed our duties to the Ghost Zone with unwavering loyalty.”

“...that is possibly the fastest, most elaborate and credible excuse I have ever seen anyone form,” Danny finally spoke after picking up his jaw from the ground.

“There are no shortage of ghost drones.” Pariah absently replied. “Such an eloquent speaker, however, is rare. Our government, then, is allowed only to benefit the Ghosts Zone? Our _subjects_? And you will judge this from your high seats and your single eyes, then?”

“It is in our oath: to observe.” bowed the speaker.

“...I should fry you this day.”

“Pariah,” Danny began, “I don't think-”

A thump silenced the halfa. The Ghost King looked like he was concentrating. “I should. However, that would deprive Our government of talent. Rise, Law-speaker, or the conferment of the office of Law-speaker, with the bestowal of the name of Omar.”

A murmur arose amongst the Observants, though their only named figure in present time still arose and bowed in respect, now much elevated in office.

“You are dismissed,” decreed the Ghost King. “Our will is done. Now, Daniel. Cujo is looking for you.”

* * *

“You know, when you adopted Cujo as the royal pet or something, I didn't think it involves me visiting like, once a week, and then being invited onto this thingstead shindig. And I don't think _arms training_ is involved!”

Every word that Danny said was spoke in time to swinging a pair of training poles to parry Pariah's mace. Since the thing was extremely heavy even by ghost standards, his arms were aching and Pariah simply looked bored. Perhaps if arms training included firearms Danny might work up some enthusiasm, but no modern weaponry worked near Pariah's demesne so far.

“Clausewitz claims that war is an extension of policy.”

“Yes, well, Clausewitz also mentioned that pure reason is involved!” Danny retorted, ducking under pariah's extremely slow mace. Given that the first time they did this he was already bruised, it was an improvement.

Nearby, a green glowing bulldog panted, toying around with a rawhide toy and a squeaky toy.

“And I'm ignoring Cujo, which makes me feel bad,” Danny sighed, dodging another blow to move towards the dog. “Hi, boy. How are you? The mean King Pariah Dark being bad?”

Cujo licked back in response, yipping.

“He mopes about the gates when you leave.” commented Pariah as he set aside his maces on a cleared section of the Keep's training grounds.

“When I left, you mean, because that implies that he does it all the time-” Danny stopped. “You mean he  _does_ pine?”

“ _Woof_!” Cujo's tongue lolled around, smiling.

“Huh. Good thing you're cute,” Danny muttered, scratching Cujo's chin. “Do you have a name?”

“His name is Cujo,” Pariah frowned. “He seems to have internalised the name. He won't respond to another.”

“Ah, well, what can you say.” Danny shrugged. “I'll bring the book next time. Cujo's actually a name invented for a killer St Bernard.”

“Better than my choice, then. I was thinking that Freki is a good name.”

“I think Geri's brother is also a wolf?” Danny retorted. “Not a great choice of names.”

“Then it is fortunate that the pup has more sense.” Pariah sighed, picking up one of the training sticks to toss. “Fetch!”

Cujo yipped and ran after the stick, bringing it back soon. He was duly rewarded as Pariah scratched his chin.

“Man's best friend is also pet to the King of Ghosts,” Danny commented. “Right, so in this... thingstead. I am so glad that you're going to write a constitution instead of ruling by fear and tyranny, but why am I involved?”

“We believed that you wished to include ghostly non-interference in the human realm?” Pariah archly questioned. “If you can get such a clause ratified by the great powers and the various chieftains, a sizeable number of incursions on your territory would drop.”

“Really?” Danny blinked. “You'd do that?”

“Of course, in order to get you registered in as an jarl, we had to consider the boundaries of the mortal city of Amity Park as your territory.” Pariah explained. “Karls and thralls are not usually given the chance to participate.”

“One day, I swear, you're going to think of society as not involving slaves at all.” Danny sighed.

“Well then, for such a chaotic proposal to be enforced, I trust you will not object to the inclusion of police powers to be extended to the Crown, then?”

Danny stared at the Ghost King. “Well... who's participating?”

“Most of the anthropomorphic personifications. Pandora and Clockwork, Vortex, Nocturne, Hotep-Ra, Medusa, Undergrowth, Walker... Frostbite, Princess Dorathea... and that's all the responses we have received... so far. Ghost Writer will of course be transcribing... and you and us shall also be in attendance.”

“What about Ember and Skulker?” Danny finally spoke. “Or... or Technus? So far, all the ghosts you named are the very powerful, not the simply powerful.”

“To have a voice at the thingstead requires not just raw power,” Pariah spoke, his tone very much resembling a lecture. “It requires _support_. Of ghosts, that is. Princess Dorathea is attending precisely to strengthen her power base amongst those of her principality, so we divine. There are very few people, We imagine, who will not refuse the invitation, since whoever appears at the thingstead will form the... _hoi oligoi_. The patricians? The deciders?”

“This isn't exactly representative government.” Danny's brow furrowed.

“Representative implies that more than twenty percent of the entire population of the Ghost Zone is sentient enough to register under a population census of legal persons,” came Pariah's wry reply. “And that there are ghosts who have not sealed themselves away in their demesnes out of fear, or escaped to the human world. However, out of this twenty percent still comes four percent of ghosts with the power to control ninety-six percent of the Ghost Zone population, which is more than enough majority to save your humans. If you like, though, We will withdraw you, and by proxy Amity Park, such that in the Ghost Zone you will have no judicial recourse the next time a ghost, oh say, kidnaps a human to marry and kill in the Ghost Zone.”

“...Point.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Ghosts.”

“Not at all, Daniel. Politics.”

Danny scowled. “I hate being called Daniel, just so you know.”

Pariah looked at him, turning his head in the process away from Cujo. “It is your name. We extend the courtesy of my first name to you, and receive in equal measure your name. To change the way We address you, would diminish the respect We show.”

“Which is why I never insisted that you call me Danny. Ever.” Danny lay down on the ghostly grass around the training area. “It just... reminds me of Plasmius. I know that you're doing this as King of Ghosts, not as Pariah Dark.”

“The tomb-raider? I see.”

“And _there_ is Pariah Dark, the individual. Not the Ghost King.” Danny grinned, but then his face fell. “Maybe we can both find peace in doing this.”

“You will never find peace, Phantom.” Pariah said. “Your peace was gone the moment you decided that you didn't want the Crown, and gave it to me. Now, you can only make the best of your choices.”


	3. II: Sit tibi terra levis

 

“Why is _Youngblood_ on the list of 'chieftains'? ” Danny raised the scroll that listed all recipients of the Ghost King's invites. “How does the kid even qualify as a _chieftain_?”

“In order to qualify, you need to have a retinue of ghost followers. Captain Youngblood has them in the form of the crews in his fleet, ergo he is a chieftain.” Pariah Dark replied airily. He was dressed in a light tunic, belt and felt shoes, but Danny never doubted that the old ghost was still way more armed than Danny himself. “You, on the other hand, were much harder to justify for an entrance into the talks.”

“You know, I totally appreciate this help, but why are you helping me?” Danny pouted as he read through the list. “I don't even know half of what you're doing. And Technus is excluded from the list?!”

“Mr Nikolai Technus decided that his talents were best served outside of the government.” Pariah answered. “Of course, since his amnesty from Walker was conditional upon his attendance to the thingstead, I took the liberty of informing our unrelenting sheriff of Mr Technus' impending criminal status.”

“I don't think that's how you're supposed to invite people to parliament?” Danny considered. “And what about Poindexter? I think he qualifies.”

Pariah Dark simply gave him the gimlet eye. “Mr Poindexter cannot lead a pencil to paper. How would you expect him to control the ghosts of residence in his demesne? For practical concerns, Princess Dorathea has offered to represent the SplitZone, which, while all good and proper, also presents different problems.”

“Problems with Dora and Sidney teaming up?” Danny asked.

Pariah unfurled a familiar-looking scroll. “Map, Project.”

A hologram of the Keep and its surrounding territories expanded around Pariah's study, millions of individual islands floating in the ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone represented on the Infi-map. Danny stared ion awe as certain zones were marked with different colours in three dimensions.

“This,” Pariah tapped an outlined area in light blue, “is the combined territory recognised by the Witenagemot between the two of them. This-” a zone in red, “makes up the Acropolis, separated by the River of Repulsion. And, placing the Keep's territory and Walker's prison in perspective... would make this sector of the Ghost Zone dominated by the Princess. Walker would protest about the intersection of airspace between these two territories.”

“Wow, and I thought gerrymandering in two dimensions was bad,” Danny remarked as the Infi-map projections of the Ghost Zone's local sector began to resemble an election map. “And that's still on the local level _only_.”

“The Infi-map, invented by King Pariah Morozko, forms an important citation of all border treaties in the Ghost Zone.” Pariah explained, admiration apparent in his voice. “The Realm of the Far Frozen has been charged with its protection, since King Pariah Morozko came from their clan.”

“King _Pariah_ Morozko?” Danny repeated. “Of the Far Frozen?”

Pariah remained silent. “He was a good king, in his time. It is very rare that the Crown accepts a wearer with a cold core. Good kings, however, have a tendency to get assassinated, and in his case, it was his brother, Prince Ded Moroz, who did the deed and was killed by his brother's dying blow for his trouble. It paved the way for Kurultai Pariah Khan's rise.”

“...Oh.” Danny frowned once he managed to decipher Pariah's words. “That's... how long ago? You probably can't recall, being super old and all, but I only know that you were the Ghost King. I didn't know that you had... _predecessors_.”

“Since my death, I have worked with them.” Pariah remarked idly. “By the time I started working for a fifth master, all my previous lieges having died, the throne of the Ghost Zone was called the Pariah Throne. The only reason they call it the Dark Throne now is because I remained king for... a very long time. I cannot recall the exact length of time, being, as you say, super old.”

“No kidding.” Danny remarked. “So... how come we never heard of them? Those... predecessors.”

“I outlived every one of them, long enough for the ages to forget,” was Pariah's reply, quiet and dignified, if a touch respectful. “Clockwork would remember, but that is his job. He knew them, as royalty and gods of this quintessential world. I knew them as my enemies, and my allies. My friends, few that they may have been. My lords and ladies. My knights, my mounts. It is I, and the Ghost Zone, that remembers.”

Danny's head turned, to see the Ghost King in deep contemplation that seemed directly at odds with the rough look that Pariah Dark seemed to carry about him. Pariah played with the Ring of Rage in his hand. Across the study, the Crown of Fire steadily burned from its perch under Pariah's eye.

“They are all gone now.”

* * *

Danny flew across the Ghost Zone, towards Pandora's demesne. The Acropolis was lit with giant flaming metal basins holding combustible matter, which spewed thick green smoke about the steps. Pandora was present, her four arms crossed across her torso as she waited.

“Hello, child.”

“Hi, Pandora!” Danny smiled at her. “I mean, ma'am. Well, erm, just came to... drop by! Yeah! To... take you up on your invitation, chat a bit...”

“Oh!” Pandora's hands clapped together, two sets of claps echoing about. “Well, follow me, I just finished some baklava.”

“Thanks, Pandora. Erm, ma'am.”

“Pandora is fine, Sir Daniel.”

“Thanks.” Danny waited until they were walking behind Doric columns before he figured out how to phrase his question. “Erm, I... just wanted to talk about Pariah.”

“The Ghost King?” Pandora enquired. “Ah, Clockwork was a bust, then?”

“I don't... want to interrupt Clockwork yet, really.” Danny fidgeted. “And I was looking for a ghost ancient enough to recall any kings before Pariah.”

“I'm afraid not, dear Phantom,” Pandora sighed. “Pariah Dark was already king when I... arrived at the Ghost Zone, and even then his rule was quite entrenched. Of course, I saw the group they called the Ancients battle His Majesty about a thousand years after I arrived... if you could call it a battle.”

“What happened?” Danny already guessed what happened; without the benefit of an army to deal with Pariah, it probably required a sucker-punch and stealing the Crown and ring away before pushing the man into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, a box of such tight dimensions and spell-work that would stand against millennia. Said box was also smashed into millions of pieces, hence Pariah dark walking around the Ghost Zone and terrifying more than a few ghosts in the process.

“When your entire plan hinges on catching the King off guard, assassinating him directly after staging a minor revolt for him to quell, stealing the Ring and Crown, and pretending to be his manservant for years before attacking him, it's not a battle, but an assassination.” Pandora led Danny to a small patio table which held a plate of glowing baklava next to an amphora and two earthenware cups. “Wine?”

“Erm... I need all my wits later...”

“Water?”

“Thanks.” Danny sighed over the trickle of water. “How do you talk to a guy whose moral code and, well, basically everything, is a thousand years out of date? And who can recall like, super old details of the Ghost Zone nobody except Clockwork remembers? I keep having to read Jazz's books on feeling out of place, and brushing up on all customs, and- and then he gets to angst _now_. About people I never met and never will meet, because they're all dead! Though they're _ghosts_!”

Pandora silently settled herself, waiting. “That does not seem to be the full extent of your elaborations.”

“I'm good for now.” Danny glumly glanced to the glowing baklava in front of him, picking up a corner to nibble. “Thank you for the food. It's delicious.”

“You are learning about hospitality, I see,” Pandora said. “Good for you, Sir Daniel. So many young ghosts forget nowadays. Between Clockwork, Nocturne and now Pariah, it's a wonder that any ghost minds their manners at all.”

“Values dissonance and all, I get it.” Danny pouted, his expression woebegone.

“But why the curiosity? I presume Clockwork would be more familiar with the sequence of events than myself.” Pandora absently sipped from her own cup. “Your acquaintance with the Ghost of Time is certainly on more intimate terms, if you would forgive the presumption.”

“How do I explain it...” Danny's hands gesticulated as he tried to word his reply. “I'm more likely to get a straight answer if I start with you?”

“Fair enough.” Pandora's cup thunked against the table. “To begin with, you said 'he gets to angst now'. Like you were expecting him to say it from the start.”

“Yeah, I know.” Danny nodded. “My bad. It's dealing with students all over again. Except for that time when the students started lobbying for regular excursions to the Ghost Zone on the basis of, and I quote, 'their TA's familiarity with such an exotic and otherworldly place'. I'm just glad Principal Ishiyama shot that down.”

“As for... the others.” Pandora considered. “I do not quite know of that feeling. Even when I arrived, I had people I could relate to, all in this part of the Ghost Zone. All I had to do was safeguard my Box. Centuries would pass before I noticed the human world, but my people neither died nor changed. Could _you_ imagine, Sir Daniel, waking up to find that everything you held dear was now gone?”

Danny kept looking at his hands, large and yet gentle. His alternate self in a future that never happened had faced that, and became evil as a result. He was twenty-five now, and that alternate future never happened. Yet it had also happened, somewhere, sometime. The bone-deep, soul-crushing loneliness that followed into a chasm between worlds, neither human nor ghost.

“However, the Ghost King must be a resilient person, strong enough to weather the ages for the few centuries he had ruled beforehand.” Pandora mused. “Why so curious, Sir Daniel? If you will not _murder_ him, then you _serve_ him, and then why so many questions about the Ghost Zone's pariah king?”

Danny squinted at Pandora's innocent visage.

“I feel,” said the halfa, “as though you just made some sort of Elizabethan pun along the lines of Shakespeare that should fly over my head, but empathetically does _not_ , because Mr Lancer was very thorough, and my _ears_ will never un-hear that. Pandora, I have a girlfriend.”

“Very well, but how would that preclude your acquaintance with the King of all Ghosts, which I dare say grows more intimate?” Pandora archly replied. “Heroes who want the same or opposite goals shall meet regardless. It is inevitable. Yours and Pariah Dark's fates are... intertwined.”

Danny snorted. “Heroes? Let's not forget the ghost invasion of Amity Park over a single, lousy ring!”

“ _Metis_ and _Kratos_ are both celebrated aspects of heroism.” Pandora took another sip, this one larger. “I never did say that a hero worked exclusively for the common good. I only said that your meeting him was inevitable. Sir Daniel, you seem to have misinterpreted my words yourself without any... help.”


	4. III: Angelica vestis

 

Danny left the Acropolis with a near-permanent blush and more questions than he arrived with. The ticking of the Clock-tower that resembled Clockwork's chuckles only seemed to make them worse.

“Good afternoon, Daniel,” Clockwork's smirk drew forth a groan from the adult halfa as the latter turned around.

“Hi Clockwork.” Danny fidgeted under the old ghost's observant eyes. “I... you know, I think I'll come back later.”

“This treaty will be important,” Clockwork started speaking as Danny hovered towards the gear-shaped entrance of his tower. “And you are worried about Pariah Dark being a possible impediment.”

Danny slowly turned around, fingers tapping each other as his hands held each other. His green eyes shimmered in verdant light as he thought.

“Erm,” said the halfa.

“He _will_ be an impediment,” Clockwork started. “It is inevitable. But he will be your ally here, because he is not the only impediment, or even the strongest obstacle.”

Danny's mouth closed.

Clockwork sighed. “Goodbye, Daniel.”

“...bye, Clockwork?”

* * *

Danny floated towards the direction of Pariah's Keep, confusion writ large across his face. For the purposes of convenience, Danny had been offered quarters in Pariah's Keep itself. As he approached the floating island where the Keep was located, Danny could not help but feel slightly overwhelmed.

The ground below the Keep had somehow increased, growing a mound atop which sat the Keep proper, complete with branching wings and towers and other revisions to the extremely dated architecture. Around the mound were a set of curtain walls demarcating the concentric baileys around the keep, complete with city gates, paved streets and doors floating about. It looked like a city, sans buildings. Multiple doors stood like panelled walls around the Keep, and every once in a while a door opened and a ghost floated along the roads towards their business. Seeing as he did have business at the Keep, Danny just floated by the gate and got waved through by the skeletal sentries. Then it was just flying up the long, winding path and clearing the doors.

The castle itself, while still forbidding, seemed slightly lighter compared to earlier visits. Danny floated down the hallways that sported weapons and armour – all dented, as if they had seen use at some millennium or century. The grand study sported books instead of weapons, but the piles of scrolls and codices still dominated the room with the weight of ages. Though, there was something that stood out in the study.

“What's with the furs?” Danny asked as he stopped, floating there to watch Pariah Dark sort out furs of silvery white, golden-yellow, night-black and acid green. The acid green, Danny surmised, could only appear in the Ghost Zone.

“The Great Hall will be cold.” Pariah held up the acid-green and the night-black furs, holding them up to his scrutiny. After a moment, he set down the green furs. “And the better the impression I create, the less likely that chaos would breed. That there would be... violence.”

“Are you expecting violence?” Danny asked.

“There have been kings who were murdered by their successors.” Pariah's lips quirked. “Especially when the law allows for a new king to be elected immediately in the same place where the previous one died. And what man, dare I ask, is closer to the place where the previous king died that the one who killed him?”

Danny winced. “Okay.” He paused. “Did you kill your predecessor?”

“It was civil war. I didn't exactly expect to become King,” Pariah shrugged, draping the black fur stole around his shoulders and fumbling with the straps. “Buttons... useful inventions. I'll have to get this cleaned and fitted.”

“I am so glad that Sam isn't here to see you,” Danny sniggered.

Pariah motioned with one hand. “You will need one too.”

“Er, I'll pass. Cold doesn't affect me.”

“But it would lend some credence to your proposal. Clothes are an important impression.”

Danny fidgeted.

Pariah glowered, stooping to scoop up a silver stole. His footsteps made the earth tremble, though the delicacy he used to lay the furs across Danny's shoulders belied his strength. “See? A young prince dressed for battle.”

“Sam's gonna kill _me_ ,” Danny groused, but waved his arms. “This is kinda cool, Pariah. What is it?”

“Snow-beast fur. An old tribute from the Far Frozen to the court of Queen Asmodeus.” Pariah shrugged. “I can have it refitted. Unless, of course, you were going to wear other clothes. A set of vestments should be prepared for formal occasions.”

“Like Dad's parties,” Danny agreed quietly. “I- Thanks.”

Pariah's lone eye studied the halfa. “Do you not like the silver fur? I thought it contrasted well with your eyes, made your form seem... larger.”

“It's not you, it's... me,” Danny blandly shrugged. “Lots of responsibility, trying to argues for ghosts staying out of the human world or at least... well, behaving...”

Pariah settled behind the study, motioning to a chair next to the cedar chest of furs. “I have a moment. We can discuss your concerns. We can also leave you in ignorance, but I would prefer we settle this with minimal noise on the part of any ghost of high influence.”

Danny swallowed and sat, trying to recall his U.S. Government class. This was the bit where he wished he'd just paid a bit more attention in school, because at least then he wouldn't feel so blind-sided and bored as the King of all Ghosts started to read aloud the proposed clauses of the Ghost Zone's soon-to-be new constitution.

Until something nagged at his ears. “What, weapons? Why do we need weapons in diplomacy?!”

* * *

Danny was slightly less bored when the explosion started on the day of the first round of meetings.

“Pariah Dark! You have made a mistake, it is I, Prince Aragon, who holds the right to speak!”

A gloved palm met his face. “I take it back.”

“Remember the definition between nude and naked, Daniel.” Pariah reminded him as the King of all Ghosts flew out of the great hall and started to throw fire against the giant black dragon.

“One refers to clothes, the other refers to arms,” Danny echoed, grimacing as Pariah Dark flung a morning-star at the dragon and started to beat about its skull. “This is not a promising start to talks.”


	5. IV: Black Jack

 

“So, when you said ‘this sector’, you meant... everything.”

A log house doubling up as a mead hall had sprouted up next to Pariah’s Keep. The interior was possibly large enough to fit an Olympic stadium or two, though Danny suspected that a large part of what made it possible was the fact that ghosts could simply disregard space in the Ghost Zone where needed. The silver fur hung over his shoulders, a clock of silver edged in matte grey and hid his Hazmat suit.

“Nice clothes.”

“Thanks, Ember,” Danny turned towards the flame-haired ghost with much relief. When it looked like every civilisation known to man – and a few clearly not known at _all_ – were gathered under one roof, a familiar sight was better than the hostile-looking ghosts. “Why’re you...”

“Ya still gotta ask, baby-pop?” Ember twirled a stray turquoise flame between gloved fingers, smugly snapping them in time to the skeleton dancers in the far side of the hall. “Part of the entertainment.”

Then her smile grew an edge. “It’s almost worth seeing you trying to impress people and failing.”

“Hey, it’s totally against my will!” Danny paused, before shaking his head. “But, isn’t this... I thought we’re just talking about, like North America!”

Which accounted for the Pilgrim people, a number of angry Native and South Americans from old civilisations, and a whole fleet of floating galleons parked outside the mead hall. There was no way, however, to convince Danny that Indian ascetics and Japanese samurai were part of North America about five hundred years back.

“The Ghost Zone spans all of space and time, baby-pop,” Ember admonished. “Guess you could call this an _eyeful_. Not that you could say the same thing for Pariah Dark-”

Ember broke off as murmurs started to rise from the other side of the hall. A massive stage of granite grew up, the monolith smooth and rocky as the craggy cliff-sides off parts of Texas. Standing torches burned green flames along the edges of the rounded stage, where tiers rose like precariously stacked dinner plates until they congregated to a throne...

“Is that _bone_?” Danny looked revolted as he flew up, the better to squint at it from afar.

“The Dark Throne,” someone whispered below.

“I AM TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC-”

“Someone shut that man up, there’s nothing electronic here.” A thump resounded, and then Pariah’s voice continued: “Thank you, Sheriff Walker. My royalty, nobility, gentry, citizens. It has been a while since the speech has been delivered from the Throne.”

Though the temporarily permanent mead hall seemed as large as perhaps the state of Texas, there was no missing Pariah’s giant form, aglow with the light of the Crown and the reddish aura of the Ring of Rage. Neither could anyone miss the booming voice that somehow multiplied in force and echoed until its source seemed to emanate from everywhere.

“A warm welcome, to those of you who are _finally_ returning to your duties as parliamentarians after so many centuries,” the voice reflected a dry sarcasm and banked embers of rage. “Know that your experience is valued. Welcome, also, to the hundred and ninety-seven new volunteer representatives of your constituencies. Your enthusiasm and fresh ideas will serve the Witenagemot well. Having said that, We call on all wise ghosts, spectres, and phantoms to work together, with the eternal spirit of _collaboration_.”

It was telling, that even the speaker found himself doubtful of that fact.

“With that said, we call upon the Witenagemot to reaffirm my throne.”

“Wait, what?!” Danny shuddered. “I thought he was the King already!”

One Observant floated up. “Your servant Omar speaks for the Witenagemot, and finds no fault with Your Majesty’s continued holding of the Dark Throne. Henceforth, all laws will be made in the name of His Majesty Pariah Dark, King of All Ghosts.”

Cue a sigh of relief. “Oh, so that’s why...”

A black-gloved hand arose. “Sorry, guv’nor,” came Walker’s response, “but I thought the last person to hold the Crown would be King.”

Nearly all eyes fell upon Danny.

“And since the King is responsible for dictating the boundaries of the Ghost Zone, he can never leave it,” the ghost sheriff added with relish. “Tis the law. And the last time anyone knew, one halfa Danny Phantom had it.”

“Walker, you are not doing this _now_ ,” Danny cringed as the gaze intensified.

Pariah Dark smiled. Walker took a step back. “Daniel. Do tell everyone what you did with the Crown.”

“Uh... I gave it to you?”

“And there you have it,” Pariah Dark answered reasonably. “It is also for this reason that Daniel Phantom stands here today, as representative of the human city of Amity Park, which for the purposes of our new law shall be considered part of ours, and only for this new law; that of restricted entry into the human city of concern.”

A smirk played around his lips as the murmurs grew larger. “And that shall be the first job of this Thing. Let the Thing begin!”


End file.
